


Wayward Tracks

by essomenic



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Best Friends, Campfires, Camping, Cute Kids, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I Don't Even Know, I tried?, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Lee Minhyung | Mark Are Best Friends, Lost Boys, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Texting, You're Welcome, and nearly get mauled by bears, donghyuck is a little bitch, i wrote this for kaylee, tag who? idk her, they get lost in the woods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essomenic/pseuds/essomenic
Summary: Mark goes to summer camp with Donghyuck.Or, alternatively, A Series of Unfortunate Events except Jisung is the baby and this is actually tooth-rotting fluff and the only thing relatively gory about it is Jeno's nosebleed in the third chapter.





	Wayward Tracks

 

I’m eating Honey Combs when I make the worst decision of my life.

 

Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but all I really hoped to accomplish when I sauntered into Donghyuck’s kitchen one Saturday in early June was to secure a big bowl of cereal, not sign my life away. I didn’t mean to get roped into an argument by helping myself to the pantry. I didn’t intend to have my life ruined by hopping onto the counter-top to eat my late afternoon snack.

 

Well, that’s exactly what happens.

 

I sigh absentmindedly, shoveling another spoonful into my mouth. With a reasonably irritated mother and equally irritated son’s squabbling in the background, I chew.

 

“ _Mom_ ,” the son groans, entering the stage (kitchen) with a frown. He throws his hands into the air as his mother follows closely behind him, much to his exasperation. She’s holding a pamphlet and looks ready to skin him alive. I gulp but continue chewing anyway.

 

“ _Donghyuck_ ,” she mocks and I can see his eyes roll into another dimension. “I just think it would be a good experience,” she insists, pushing the pamphlet at him. The glossy paper reflects the light from the fridge as she opens it. Out comes the leftover meatloaf from last night and Donghyuck flops onto a stool because the conversation is over.

 

One small step for Mrs. Lee, one giant leap for mothers everywhere.

 

I snicker to myself quietly. Donghyuck isn’t ecstatic about being made fun of, apparently, and shoots me a scathing look. I shift on the granite counter, sticking a tongue out at him.

 

 _Eye roll_. “Why do _I_ have to go when Mark doesn’t?” He argues weakly and it even _sounds_ fucking dumb. But does that stop the arguably dumber expression on his face?

 

Well, no. He’s _Donghyuck_.

 

Mrs. Lee stops in the middle of placing the meatloaf in the microwave to turn and raise an eyebrow.

 

“Mark isn’t my child.”

 

“Since _when_.”

 

“Since forever? Honey, are you alright?”

 

Donghyuck waves his mother’s concerned glance away as if with a fly swatter. It deteriorates and is then replaced by an amused smirk. She turns to me.

 

“He’s going through a tough time,” she stage whispers, cupping a hand around her mouth. “You know how it is with young boys and their bodies changing—”

 

_“Mom!!”_

 

_“Donghyuck.”_

 

Said boy slumps on his stool, his head lolling onto his arms as he lies halfway over the counter. He tries schooling his face into the epitome of cool and collected, but he just ends up looking like a petulant child.

 

“Don’t look so defeated. It’s just a summer camp,” Mrs. Lee chuckles.

 

“ _Just_ a summer ca—” he stops mid-sentence to rub at his temples. “Mark, tell mom this is a stupid idea,” he whines, turning languidly to train his puppy dog eyes on me. Mrs. Lee spins on her heels expectantly and I’m met with two pairs of dark eyes both simultaneously asking something of me. I choke a little on my cereal.

 

“Uh.”

 

Stunning. Intelligent.

 

“I’ll...go with you? I-I mean, if you really don’t want to then that’s cool, too, but it’s not like I’m doing much this summer and, well, if you’re gone, then...”

 

 _Then I’ll miss you._ The words aren’t said but they don’t need to be. The implication is heavy, a knowing look crossing Mrs. Lee’s face. She smiles warmly at me but I just shrug awkwardly. Things like that aren’t said between Donghyuck and me. It’s weird.

 

The kitchen is silent for a heartbeat. Donghyuck stares at me. I watch his mouth open to protest but it closes itself again and the action is almost in slow motion. Opens. Closes. Opens. His eyes grow three times in size and he gapes at me like a fish. Miss Patty, Donghyuck’s tabby, stops licking herself in the corner to mewl pathetically. It’s probably time to feed her.

 

Donghyuck looks like he wants to tell me that’s a stupid idea, but nothing comes out.

 

His mom, however, is over the moon.

 

“That’s a great idea, sweetie; just take Mark with you.”

 

And then that’s it. Donghyuck accepts defeat, shuffling over to the fridge to pour himself a glass of orange juice. Mrs. Lee hums a Beethoven rendition as she whips up a batch of instant mashed potatoes. Miss Patty goes back to cleaning her paws. And me? I’ve somehow signed myself up for two weeks of mosquito bites and poison ivy. It’s a recipe for disaster and unwanted stress. Roughing it in Canadian countryside? _Me_?

 

I look down at the Honey Combs getting soggy in the pond of milk at the bottom of my bowl.

 

_Well fuck._

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 **Yucky** :

yo where u @

_Sent 7:13 am._

 

 **Yucky** :

BRO MY MOMS WAITINF TO GI

_Sent 7:22 am._

 

 **Yucky** :

fine. be that way.

_Sent 7:24 am._

 

 

 

I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve remembered it sooner. Hell, I should’ve stuck it in my daily planner, pinned it to my mom’s bulletin board, _something_. I should’ve thought to plan in advance. I should’ve thought past tomorrow.

 

Instead, I wake to breath on my neck.

 

It isn’t a bad feeling, per say, maybe a little ticklish, maybe a little weird, but I figure it’s just my imagination. I ignore the feathery ghost of a sigh that fans across the skin somewhere near my cheek in favor of snuggling further into my pillow.

 

That is, until there’s a _tongue in my fucking ear._

 

I yelp, catapulting myself off the bed in a tangle of star wars sheets and limbs. There’s an elbow stabbing me in the rib and I groan as both the offender and I land on the floor. The beige carpeting does little to cushion the fall.

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” I hiss. I crack an eye open to rub the sleep from it, only to be graced with Donghyuck’s sadistic grin.  The sun is in the process of waking up, bathing the room in liquefied gold and a burnt orange the color of maple leaves. A sunbeam worms its way through the slats in the blinds and lands across Donghyuck’s face in distorted patterns, making him look almost demonic.

 

“Hey, hyung,” he greets sweetly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

I stare at him in disbelief. “I _live_ here.”

 

Donghyuck dismisses this with a tsk. “Details, details.”

 

I glare at him as I rise on wobbly legs to pick my bedding up. He doesn’t offer to help, stretching himself out on the floor like a beached whale instead. He yawns with a contented pat to his stomach and the action reminds me of Miss Patty.

 

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” He presses with a grin, glancing up at me and looking strikingly similar to the Cheshire cat. I narrow my eyes.

 

“And why would I do that? _It’s six in the morning, you butt face_.”

 

“Seven thirty.” He corrects and squeals as I fling a pillow at him, rolling over to plant his face in the carpet. Then, as if remembering, “Which is late, by the way. You were supposed to be up an hour ago.”

 

I quirk an eyebrow at the boy. He mimics me with an over-exaggerated scowl, his face twisting into something bordering grotesque.

 

“I don’t even look like that,” I mumble. “But why the hell are you here so early on a _Monday?”_

 

“We’re late,” he explains, except he isn’t explaining anything and I’m still confused. I kick his rib and he whines like an incapacitated child. “That was uncalled for, hyung,” he pouts. “I thought you loved me.”

 

“Fat chance.”

 

Donghyuck gasps, scandalized. “But we’re _married!”_

 

There’s a retort hot on my tongue but the ringing of Donghyuck’s phone (a ghastly meme version of All Star) from somewhere within the depths of his sweatshirt beats me to it. He completely ignores me in favor of answering. I plop back onto my bed, crossing my arms over my chest.

 

“Yes, mom. We’ll be out in a second.” _A shake of the head._ “He’s being a lazy butt.” _Another shake._ “Would that even work? He sleeps through all his alarms.” I don’t even know why he’s shaking his head when Mrs. Lee can’t see him but whatever. Most things relating to Donghyuck don’t make sense.

 

The boy in question turns to meet my gaze. “ _Of course_ he’s packed,” he says into the receiver, sending me a _look_ and suddenly everything clicks.

 

Camp. Two weeks. Bug bites. Poison ivy.

 

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head in panic because _how the fuck did I forget about it?_ Mrs. Lee reminded me every day last month, telling me I need to pack enough socks and sunscreen to last the whole two weeks. Even _Johnny_ was telling me tips and tricks to start fires, which mushrooms are poisonous and which ones aren’t. Johnny has, as a matter of fact, never been camping before in his life, but he watched a couple YouTube videos for his little brother’s sake so his advice can’t be half bad, right?

 

Wrong. I’ll probably die of poisonous mushrooms _or worse_  — poisoned by _Donghyuck_.

 

Donghyuck ends the phone call soon after I start throwing all the clothes scattered across my room into a giant pile. Donghyuck looks at me skeptically.

 

“Don’t tell me you—”

 

I cut him off with a raised pointer finger as a warning. He ignores it, obviously, as per usual. I glare at him but all he does is tip his head back in a cackle. He proceeds to roll around the carpet in a fit of giggles.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I forgot to pack,” I reply dryly. “Crucify me.”

 

Donghyuck’s laughter subsides and he smiles warmly — fondly, if I didn’t know better. He crawls over to me with a shake of the head. He takes my hand to pull himself to his feet.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures with a pat to my cheek with his other hand. I move away in disgust, a fake gag thrown in there, and he smacks my shoulder. “Yah! Let me care about you!” I only roll my eyes. “But we better get going or my mom’ll skin us both alive and cook us into that awful pea soup of hers.”

 

“What about the clothes?”

 

Donghyuck blows me a kiss.

 

“You’ll just have to wear some of mine,” he waggles his eyebrows. “Besides, I always over-pack, anyway.” He disappears down the stairs and I look around the attic helplessly. I nearly smash my face into the wall out of sheer frustration but Donghyuck, insufferable as always, yells for me to _hurry the hell up_ from somewhere downstairs and I opt to stuffing whatever personal items I can find into my backpack. I don’t even bother changing out of my grey sweatpants and t-shirt.

 

My mom’s drinking her coffee in the dining room when I make my way down there. She smiles at me over her steaming cup.

 

“Have fun,” she says and I peck her forehead, receiving one in return. Donghyuck observes the exchange from the doorway with his nose scrunched up.

 

“Wow, I’m glad my mom and I aren’t gross like that.”

 

“You _wish_ you were like us.”

 

“ _Fat chance_.” He’s mocking me again and I flip him the bird behind my mom’s back. She just chuckles softly.

 

“Don’t get into too much trouble, boys,” she calls after us as we trek to the entryway to slip on our shoes. Donghyuck shoots a mischievous look over his shoulder.

 

“Trouble is my middle name, ma’am.”

 

“You don’t have a middle name.”

 

“ _I can dream,_ _Mark!”_

 

Another chuckle via my mother and then we’re gone. We’re climbing into the back of Mrs. Lee’s 1993 Toyota Camry and Donghyuck and I are already arguing over which of us has to sit in the seat with the dried apple juice Donghyuck’s little brother spilled last summer. Mrs. Lee puts on some classical music that’s drowned out by the overwhelming amount of I-Spy games Donghyuck insists on playing. It’s nice in a way (if Donghyuck’s over confidence in spying abilities can be considered nice). I don’t even notice I’m having fun until it’s cut short and suddenly we’re at the camp ground and everything goes to shit.

 

_Literally and figuratively._

 

And that’s only the beginning.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back with yet another story. this one's dedicated to Kaylee, whose OTP is markhyuck. i couldn't resist her so here we are. expect lots of fluff bc angst makes me want to jump off a cliff.
> 
> COMMENT + KUDOS APPRECIATED


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